When Accidents Happen:Rewrite
by WriterAnonymous012
Summary: Harry Potter has lost his memory of Draco Malfoy in a Quidditch accident. With a war looming and Harry's curiosity to remember the boy he has forgotten, this promises to be a story full of angst, desire and heartbreak. A/U
1. Prologue

**Summary:** Harry Potter has lost his memory of Draco Malfoy in a quidditch accident. With a war looming and Harry's curiosity to remember the boy he has forgotten this promises to be a story full of angst, desire and heartbreak.

 **Authors Note:** This was meant to be a rewrite of my original story, When Accidents Happen. As it would appear this is a somewhat more angsty version of that. I will leave up the original story as I know there are some that enjoyed the incredibly fluffy romance I had created for them, however that version will not be continued. This is the direction in which my muse has taken me and while the baseline of the story remains the same (Harry's loss of memory) this story will differ in pretty much every way from the original, I'm so sorry if I have disappointed anyone.

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"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches...born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies...and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies..."

-Sybill Trelawney

Into the blood-spattered snow he watched his fair-haired companion fall. The blonde had landed on his knees, his hands coming out before him to break his landing. Striking grey eyes tinged with fear met his own and he felt a burning rage like he'd never felt before ignite within him.

Those grey eyes. He'd spent 6 months analysing the emotions he'd seen flicker through them. He'd had the pleasure of seeing them alight with mischievous laughter, shine with unyielding trust, spark with disgust and disdain...but fear? Never. Pride filled his chest when his partner wiped his face of all emotion and rose to his feet, wand at the ready. He watched his chin tremble from the cold, his breath puff out in front of him in the freezing night air. His lips, normally a tempting shade of pink, were ice blue. The two comrades nodded to each other, silent words spoken between them, and faced their foe. Around them bodies lay in the cold snow, corpses of their fellow comrades, others of their enemies. Some on the side of the light, some following the dark.

"All the same on the inside though' he thought ironically. Red was all around them to the point where the white of the snow was overshadowed by it. The winds howled a sorrow filled tune whipping their robes around them and that of their enemy. There he stood, livid, scarlet eyes gleaming in the moonlight. His tall, skeletal form towering over the two boys menacingly and a sneer on his lips.

"Is this the best Dumbledore can do?" Long arms that ended in grotesque, large, spidery hands gestured around them grandly. Hogwarts behind him was a beacon in the night, awash with bright orange flames. Cries of panic and frantic shouts of spells could be heard from where they stood.

A slow smile crept across Voldemorts' features, "It would seem, I have won."


	2. The Gates

I am so excited to be posting Chapter One of the rewrite! Very excited and also very nervous for how it will be received. It is so completely different from the original that I'm worried to disappoint some. **Quick notes**. My writing is somewhat flighty. This seems to be the style I have adopted for some reason and try as I may I can't seem to change that fact. Sorry if this bothers some. **Note two** is that this is an A/U sixth year story. I am trying to stick close to The Half-Blood Prince novel in some aspects but with my own spin on the sequence of events and obviously Harry and Draco's relationship. This is eventual **slash.** If you don't like slash then please don't read. I also realise that this chapter is boring. Of course because it is boring that means it is also necessary. It had to be written in order to have some sort of background for my story. Trust me, it was hard to write and if I'm honest I'm not 100% satisfied with it but if I didn't post it now I would just keep writing and rewriting it as I have been. Alright I think that's it. Hope this new spin will please anybody here from the original story and newcomers as well and as always, please leave a review.

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing and profit nothing, this is purely for fun.

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 **Chapter One: The Gates**

 _"He's not a cruel boy. He's competitive, and he's a fighter. He doesn't just lie down and take abuse. But he does have native integrity, which makes him a hero to me. He's a normal boy but with those qualities most of us admire. "_

 _JK Rowling regarding the characterization of Harry Potter_

"Come on, ladies, 3 more!"

Harry Potter spared a glance at his best friend Ronald Weasley who was next to him on the ground, arms tensed as they held up his body. The redhead met his eyes and they shared a look. Harry grinned. Their quidditch captain, a man by the name of Aaron Hadwin, had been especially hard on them this afternoon. Although he was particularly hard on them every afternoon today he seemed to have a bit of extra bark in his bite. Harry assumed it was because it was their last day. Hadwin, a stern and retired quidditch player Harry had come to both respect and loathe over the past two months, was head of the All Boys Snitches and Pitches Quidditch camp that Ron had been so eager to join this summer. The pair of them had no idea what to expect when they'd signed up but looking back on their first day, sit-ups and push-ups hadn't even made the list. They'd entered the camp two scrawny teenagers and were going to be leaving, as Ron liked to put it "ripped men"

Their newly developed muscles were just one of the many benefits they'd reaped from attending the quidditch camp. Harry had mastered skills on a broomstick he hadn't even dreamed of, The Wronski Feint among them. He'd had the immense pleasure of learning about the history of quidditch, a subject that truly fascinated him. Then there were also the trust exercises. Ron, whom Harry could already boast he trusted with his life, had proven himself worthy of that trust time and time again this summer. Hadwins trust exercises had consisted of flying up in the air as high as the broomstick could take you and pitching yourself of the broom, literally free-falling through the air, and having your partner catch you on their own broomstick from several feet below. Though the pair of them had their fair share of close calls they'd always managed to catch each other in the end. For the partners that weren't so lucky, Hadwin was always there with a levitating charm to ensure they safely made it to the ground.

Snapping back to the present, Harry began his slow descent on tired muscles back to the dirt below him before using his arms to heft himself back up again. What number was this anyways?

"198! 2 more" came Hadwins brisk shout.

Well that answered his question then.

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"Ah Harry, so nice to see you dear" Mrs. Weasley said pulling him in for one of her brief but affectionate hugs, "you as well Ron" she rushed to embrace her youngest son as well. "I see the camps done the two of you well" she looked Harry and Ron over approvingly. Ron, ever eager to display his newly developed muscles, stuck his chest out proudly. "Yes mum I suppose it did" he replied offhandly but was still puffed out like a peacock.

Harry watched with amusement and thanked Molly humbly. He too was quite proud of his slightly broader build. He'd grown roughly two inches this summer as well as gained an impressive amount of muscle on both his arms and legs. Hadwin hadn't went easy on them, that was for sure but the hard work had most definitely paid off in the end.

The three of them stood in Hadwins office, handfuls of silvery floo powder at the ready to travel to The Burrow. Harry gazed around the office somewhat sadly. He'd had an amazing summer here, one of his best to date. The camp had been a getaway of sorts, a haven if you will. Here, amongst the broomsticks and cabins, alongside his best mate, it had almost been enough to make him forget about the outside world and the very real approaching war. Voldemort was still out there and very much a threat.

Harry sighed feeling the weight of the world literally resettle itself upon his shoulders. This had been a temporary escape. Tearing his eyes away from the many trophies and quidditch posters lining the walls he threw his handful of dust into the fireplace and stepped into the green flames, careful to tuck his arms neatly at his sides. "The Burrow!" He cried clearly. As the flames engulfed him and he felt the effects of the floo whisking him away he said a silent goodbye to the Snitches and Pitches grounds, it was time to return to the real world.

Harry had finished off his remaining week of summer at The Burrow in as a relaxed state as he could manage. His birthday had come and gone, the Weasleys had prepared a cake and a few presents.

He and Ron had visited Diagon Alley for their school supplies earlier in the week and Harry had felt somewhat like an animal on display. Madam Malkin had spent his entire robe fitting shaking her head and muttering "poor boy" under her breath. Witches and Wizards alike stopped to stare at him in the streets, several approaching him, sorrow filled eyes and mumbled apologies on their breaths.

The feverishly gasped words "The Chosen One" followed him everywhere he went, into every shop he entered and every doorway he exited. Harry turned restlessly to his other side unable to fall asleep. Tomorrow he'd be off to Hogwarts, a place that had once offered solace, had been the only home he'd ever known... what would it bring tomorrow? The usual comfort? Sadly, Harry doubted it.

.

"Come on, mate! We"re going to be late for the bloody train!" Ron yelled running through the Kings Cross Station Platform. Harry, just behind his ginger haired friend quickened his light jog alongside the parked train to catch up.

"Harry, Ron!" The pair paused glancing up at the Hogwarts Express to catch a glimpse of excited brown eyes and bushy brunette locks. Hermione Granger had her head poked out of one of the train windows and was beaming brightly.

"Alright Hermione?" Harry asked a genuine smile gracing his features.

"Alright" she answered. "Ron?"

"Never better" the redhead replied grinning back.

.

"Ronald! Do you ever stop eating?" Hermione exclaimed staring at Ron munching on his eighth chocolate frog.

"No." Ron stated simply around a mouthful of chocolate.

Rolling her eyes Hermione raised a hand to hide her smile. Harry chuckled. "So what have you been up to all summer then, Hermione?"

Hermione turned her attentions to Harry "Well Harry, I've been studying ahead, I found Flesh-Eating Trees of the World to be a quite fascinating read, did you know that a Snargaluff only appears to be a gnarled old stump? It's actually completely covered in thorny vines...very misleading plant, quite dangerous really..."

Harry listened while she spoke of O.W.L. scores and the like, slightly lulled at the familiar tone of Hermione's voice and Ron's chewing. Outside their compartment he could hear the other students shuffling about the train trying to find comfort in the familiarity. He couldn't.

"Excuse me a moment, Hermione, I need to use the loo" the brunette said apologetically rising from his seat.

"Yes Harry of course. I can finish telling you about Apparition lessons when you get back. Ron! Is six pumpkin pasties really necessary?"

Harry closed the compartment door on the conversation quietly and gazed up and down through the trains narrow passageway. It was full and crowded, students lined up at the trolley for sweets and buzzing with excited chatter. Catching a glimpse of gleaming red hair he made his way toward the front of train where Ginny Weasley was exiting a compartment of her own. She'd grown a lot over the summer and Harry had noticed the moment he'd stepped out of the fireplace at the Burrow his first day back from camp. Ginny had been there to greet them and gone was the gangly, lanky girl that had always been known as 'Rons sister'. In her place was a beautiful young woman with silky auburn hair and sparkling brown eyes. She was slim and fair and Harry thought her rather lovely though he was loathe to admit it.

Ginny's young face brightened when her eyes made contact with Harry's.

"Settling in alright then, Harry?" She asked, light brown eyes dancing with the hint of the warm smile upon her lips when he reached her.

A flush Harry had grown accustomed to sporting in the youngest Weasley's presence returned at once as he gazed down into her round upturned face. Try as he might to control the embarrassing display he hadn't quite mastered containing his reaction to her just yet. He'd opened his mouth to respond when there was a snicker behind him.

"So Potter you've finally decided to give the little Weaselette a chance have you? I'm not surprised what with You-Know-Who's return. You best take it where you can get it while you still can. Though I hadn't pegged you as the desperate type. Surely you could do better? That mudblood Granger perhaps?"

The new gentle flare of heat that Harry had began to attribute to the effect Ginny had on him became something much more familiar in an instant. This raw, unadulterated dislike was something he was very accustomed too. A seldom few made the raven haired teen feel such hatred but present company never ceased to disappoint.

Composing himself, Harry turned around and faced the voice that had spoke. The voice that undoubtedly belonged to Draco Malfoy.

To say that Harry was surprised by what he saw would be a fairly accurate description, although for the most part, Malfoy looked as Harry had always remembered him. Sneer twisting his lips, blonde hair plastered harshly to his head accenting the pointy, snarling facial features. His cold gray eyes were surveying Harry and his red haired companion with the utmost contempt. That is where the similarities between the Malfoy he had seen at the end of the school year and the one he seen standing before him now ended. Dark circles surrounded sunken eyes. His high cheekbones were defined as ever, his cheeks were gaunt and his skin shades paler then usual. His body was frail, thin and bony...almost delicate looking. Flanked by his regular cronies, Crabbe and Goyle , both of a husky build, Malfoy looked positively sickly. Any retort Harry had died on his lips as he surveyed his enemy in bewilderment. Luckily Draco's sickly appearance didn't seem to deter Ginny any.

"When will you grow up, Malfoy? A war is approaching. Surely you have more important things to worry about other than Harry's social life."

Malfoy cheeks pinked slightly and Harry was relieved for the brief moment of colour on the otherwise colourless face.

"I'd watch my mouth if I were you, Weasley. Mudbloods and muggle sympathizers will be the first to go. Save for Potter, of course" he spat fiercely. Crabbe and Goyle, ever the faithful lapdogs, nodded eagerly in agreement. Harry's voice chose that moment to return.

"What happened to you?" he blurted out.

He'd meant to tell the arrogant Slytherin to shove off but apparently his mouth had a mind of it's own. While he hadn't meant to say what he had the Gryffindor found himself desperate for the answer. Harry had to know, what had happened to his school rival over the summer?

.

"No I won't lose hope, no, I won't lose sight but heaven is a place I just can't find.

Run from the shadows and run to the light, running from the past I left behind.

Haunted by a memory that I just can't set free, searching for the man that I used to be.

Now I'm standing at the gates and I just can't escape, heaven is a place that I can't find"

THE GATES by Young Empires


	3. Alive

**Chapter Two- Alive**

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" _He's shut down compassion-how else would you become a Death Eater? So he suppresses virtually all of the good side of himself. But then he's playing with the big boys, as the phrase has it, and suddenly, having talked the talk he's asked to walk it for the first time and it's absolutely terrifying. And I think that that is an accurate depiction of how some people fall into that way of life and they realise what they're there for. I felt sorry for Draco. The events of Draco's late teens forever changed his life. He had the beliefs with which he had grown up challenged in the most frightening way: he had experienced terror and despair, seen his parents suffer for their allegiance, and had witnessed the crumbling of all that his family had believed in."_

 _-Jk Rowling regarding the characterisation of Draco Malfoy_

Struggling to withhold the cry of pain that was threatening to spill from his lips Draco winced as the cane came across his back for the fiftieth time in a row.

"Count it, Draco" a voice snapped coldly from behind him and the pointy jaw, which was locked in silent pain, opened and gritted out clearly.

"50."

Steps could be heard as the man stood back to survey his handiwork.

"Very well," the voice drawled smoothly. "That concludes your punishment for today. You may face me."

Dropping his arms from where they lay bracing the stone wall ahead of him, Draco turned around to face his father, Lucius Malfoy.

Lucius had lowered his cane and was staring down at his son with hardened gray eyes that were positively brimming with disapproval.

The younger Malfoy never lowered his gaze despite the ache of self loathing that resonated within him, more painful than any number of lashings from the cane had ever been.

He'd failed his father yet again. A disgrace to the Malfoy name.

"If you learn nothing else from me Draco, learn this and remember it well. Never look the enemy in the eye."

He stared down his straight, pointed nose at his son.

"Do you comprehend why?"

"Why Father?"

"Lest you mistake them for a human. See Draco, an enemy of a Malfoy is useless, less than, _sub_ human. In the future I expect you to remember your place as a Malfoy and to conduct yourself in a manner befitting one. Now, make yourself decent and join us for dinner" Lucius finished coldly turning on his heel and leaving the dungeons swiftly not bothering to wait for his son's reply.

Only when Draco heard the doors to the dungeons slam shut did he allow himself a shaky intake of breath. Something forbidden and alien was awakening in his chest. Emotion. It was turning his stomach, twisting his insides, unfamiliar in its rapid growth. A heat blazed in him threatening to spill over, fighting to rise to the surface. Draco's heart began to pick up speed and he could feel his intake of breath becoming more intense. Suddenly, there it was his heart began to race, pumping furiously, and the young teen raised his hand to his chest in panic. Why couldn't he damn well breathe? His heart was thundering against his breast bone painfully and he tried again at an intake of breath, breathing deeply. That seemed to lessen the strain on his heart somewhat and so he did it again and again relieved when the throbbing ache began to subside and his racing heart came to a steady beat once more. Then something even more daunting arose. His eyes began to water, tears prickling at the corners and a white hot shame shook him to his very core. Was he going to cry now? Carry on like an adolescent?

Draco would very much have liked to forget the last time he'd cried. It had taken place following one of his families many lavish dinner parties. He'd been cross at his mother for denying him lumps of sugar in his tea yet again. He had never been allowed sugar as a child and now as a teenager he opted to go without it in order to avoid the sound of his mother clicking her tongue in distaste or his father's silent gaze of disapproval. As it happened, when Draco was a child he used to frighten the house-elves into submission with threats. He'd tell tales of knocking over one of his mother's beloved vases and blaming it on one of the pitiful creatures if they did not, in fact, fetch him sugar cubes at his leisure. This resulted in Draco growing quite attached to the sweet little morsels. Dobby, the house elf that usually tended to Draco's sugar needs had foolishly and quite mistakenly added the sugar to Narcissa's tea instead of Draco's own on that fated night at this one particular dinner party. The latter had resulted in his mother's rather unlady-like spewing of oversugared beverage ending up in Pamela Goyle's face. Draco and the other children had broken into fits of laughter before Lucius got wind of what had actually transpired. Draco had been coercing Dobby into sneaking him sugar and Dobby had been otherwise complying. Livid, Lucius had sent Draco to his room immediately and he and his cane ensured Draco would no longer be bullying the house elves into sneaking sugar lumps into his bitter tea again. It had been 5 lashings from the cane. Draco, all of five years old at the time, had shrieked and cried from beginning to end adding to his fathers mounting displeasure.

"Malfoys don't cry" he'd sneered cruelly when that lashings had reached their end and locked his son in his room for five long days to ensure the lesson stuck. As it happened it wasn't a lesson Draco had ever forgotten. Now here he stood fighting back tears that hadn't made an appearance in eleven years.

He was weak. His father had said so himself that very evening and it echoed in the corners of Draco's mind, loud and so very true. He was a coward, not fit to bare the name Malfoy.

He recalled his encounter earlier that afternoon, an encounter he admitted, he wouldn't soon forget.

A young man, filthy, bruised and beaten had hung in these very dungeons. Thick chains were cuffed around his wrists and ankles effectively holding the captive who was thrashing wildly in his cell. Draco never knew his name, it hadn't mattered. He was a muggle his father had said. Nothing of importance. An animal.

 _"Please! Let me go! I have a family, a daughter. Please, I won't breathe a word, the police will never hear about this just please let me go."_

 _Draco had surveyed the man with disgust. He was rambling. Speaking nonsense. Incoherent. Here, locked in the Malfoy Manors dungeons, chained to a wall throwing himself against the bonds ruthlessly, the Slytherin couldn't agree with his father more, this creature_ was _an animal._

 _Lucius Malfoy who stood next to his son, curled his thin lips in disgust and raised his wand._

 _"Silence!"_

 _The appearance of the elder Malfoys wand had rendered the man silent immediately. Although a muggle, it would appear this man had already been on the receiving end of his fathers wand and knew exactly what would befall him lest he not obey._

 _Draco eyed his father, familiar feelings of pride rising to the forefront at his father's ability to control any situation. He was brilliant. Wealthy. Powerful. Everything Draco hoped to be himself one day._

 _"You're right to be frightened, muggle, however it appears you fear the wrong wizard. It is my son, Draco, who should cause you to cower so."_

 _A delighted smirk graced Draco's face. It was about time his father trusted him with something more than stags and owls._

 _"Draco please do show our guest how we entertain here in the Malfoy home," Lucius said the picture of a gracious host._

 _Stepping forward ahead of his father and directly in front of the muggle, Draco had raised his wand, the two condemning words on the tip of his tongue and looked the prisoner in the eye._

 _His eyes. They had been brown and alive, dancing with fear. There was a silent pleawithin them, fear lurking in those dark depths._

 _Draco had faltered, surprise hitting him like an ice cold bucket of water being released onto his head...He hadn't known what to expect but surely a muggles eyes were supposed to look largely different than his own?_

 _"Please...Draco. You don't...have to...do this" the man before him had gasped desperately. A final attempt to save himself._

 _Taken aback by the use of his first name from a muggle...an animal... with eyes so shockingly human, Draco had stood wordlessly, wand arm still raised._

 _"You dare to call him by name, beast?!" Lucius had snarled coming forward angrily, gracious demeanour forgotten._

 _The man had pushed back against the wall trying to avoid the angry wizard._

 _"No no no no I'm-I'm so so so-rry I-"_

 _Lucius boot caught him in the stomach, stealing the muggles breath on a cry of pain._

 _"Muggle filth. You would be wise to remember your place" the elder Malfoy spoke in a voice barely above a whisper. "I won't have one of your kind sullying a strong pureblood name with your nasty tongue" and he promptly spat in the young man's face._

 _Draco watched the exchange his wand arm still raised. His father, Lucius Malfoy, had spat. Spat like a common...Weasley. Draco himself had always been taught that spitting was unsightly and undignified._

 _"Don't think I missed your hesitation, son" Lucius drawled coldly without turning away from the muggle. "Finish the job."_

 _A lump had suddenly filled Draco's throat. Uncertainty lingered in his chest along with massive waves of confusion. No. No confusion. He wanted to do 'd longed for this moment, began preparing for it the moment he'd set foot back onto the Manors grounds at the beginning of summer . He threw his shoulders back and glanced down at the mop of brunette hair, careful to avoid those eyes. Those eyes. Human eyes. Draco's arm began trembling._

 _"Draco!" Lucius snapped still not facing his son._

 _Thankful his father couldn't see the increasing amount of panic that was undoubtedly showing on his face, Draco cleared his throat, reminding himself that this was a huge honor, flicked his wand and spoke the words, "Avada Kedavra"_

 _The prisoners eyes had been squeezed tight his body flinching instinctively into the wall...and then they'd opened and Draco made the mistake again of meeting his expressive gaze. The gaze that was becoming shockingly more human by the second._

 _Draco stared down at his wand in revulsion. What was wrong with it. He'd performed the spell countless times over the past few weeks and while it was a rocky start as expected, he was quiet confident in his abilities to cast it effortlessly now._

 _"Father the wand-"_

 _"You are not going to blame the perfectly good wand I've purchased you, Draco."_

 _Lucius voice was positively scathing._

 _"Avada Kedavra!" There was the telltale flash of green light and the muggle had collapsed on the dungeon floor, muffled sobs silenced at last._

Draco wiped furiously at his cheeks but his hands came away dry. None of the offending liquid had spilled. Kneeling to retrieve his sweater from where it had been tossed during his punishment he avoided glancing to the right where the body of the nameless muggle was still sprawled across the floor. He knew those eyes would be open and lifeless. That forbidden panic began to rise again but this time Draco was familiar with that burning sensation and he choked it down and stamped it out before he became an undignified mess again.

'Never look the enemy in the eye lest you mistake them for human' he repeated to himself.

Snatching the jumper from its spot on the floor he hissed in pain while slipping it on, gingerly tugging it over the broken skin of his back. His body ached and his head was spinning but he wouldn't heal his wounds. He would rightfully suffer the consequences.

Smoothing his hair back from his face in an attempt to tidy it he pulled himself together and walked stiffly to the stairs to join his family for dinner.

.

 _"I was born in a thunderstorm, I grew up overnight_

 _I played alone, I played on my own, I survived._

 _I wanted everything I never had, like the love that comes with light_

 _I wore envy and I hated that but I survived._

 _I had a one-way ticket to a place where all the demons go_

 _Where the wind don't change and nothing in the ground can ever grow._

 _No hope, just lies and you're taught to cry in your pillow but I survived."_

 _ALIVE by Sia_


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